


Education is Fundamental

by ratherbehere



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dom/sub, M/M, Power Play, Public Sex, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-13
Updated: 2013-07-13
Packaged: 2017-12-19 08:16:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/881541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ratherbehere/pseuds/ratherbehere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Castiel is a professor, and Dean has been very, very naughty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Education is Fundamental

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to Tumblr.

Castiel is more than a little annoyed by the time he lets his evening class go for the night. Dean Winchester, up to his usual tricks, pushed every single one of his buttons. Whispering to a random neighbor, checking his cell phone, popping his gum, flashing him flirty, devilish smiles and subtle winks just to see him flush. The students don’t seem to mind, because they don’t seem to notice much of anything, but Castiel is flustered. To add insult to injury, of course Dean is one of those smart asses who knows just enough about philosophy to ask the most annoying, impertinent questions he could think of. Not because he cared for an answer, but because he enjoyed riling Castiel up. Which was damn hard to do, normally, but Dean Winchester is very good at getting under his skin.

The students file out of the classroom quickly, checking their phones and chatting away about the game that weekend. Castiel spots Dean making his way for the back door.

“Mr. Winchester!” he hollers and Dean stops and freezes in his tracks. “If you would stay, please. I need to speak with you.”

Dean turns around, shoots Castiel a cocky smile and proceeds to swagger his way to the front of the room. His eyes go up and down Castiel’s body as he walks, fondly eyeing his silk vest and button down, black slacks. When he stops on the other side of the teacher’s desk, he cocks his head and puts on his cute eyes.

“Yes, Professor Novak? Is there a problem?”

The false innocence makes Castiel’s nostrils flare.

“Dean, you’ve been very naughty.”

“I have no idea what you are talking about,” Dean says quickly, easily.

“Oh?” Castiel asks, moving out from behind his desk. “So you weren’t trying to simultaneously flirt with me while being an obnoxious smartass?”

“No, I was totally doing that,” Dean admits readily with a grin.

“Well that was very wrong of you, Dean,” Castiel says, stepping into Dean’s person space. “I will have to punish you for that.”

Dean leans in, close. “Maybe that’s why I did it,” he says softly. “Maybe I want to  _make it up to you_.”

Castiel’s eyes flash and he nods slowly, thoughtfully.

“Just what kind of punishment do you think would be appropriate Mr. Winchester?” Castiel finally asks. The humor and laugher is gone from Dean’s eyes and Castiel watches with surprise as he slowly sinks to the floor and settles on his knees. He looks up to meet Castiel’s eyes, the question written there. Castiel doesn’t respond right away, evaluating his choices, his arousal level, and the consequences. He finally says, “We could both get in trouble for this.”

“I thought I was already in trouble.”

He has a point there. In fact, Dean has been  _very_ bad and needs to be taught a lesson. Letting him leave when he’s clearly wanting correction wouldn’t be right, but a simple blow job, which Dean clearly  _desires_  to give, isn’t quite punishment enough, is it?

“Get up Dean,” Castiel says suddenly, sharply, making his decision on how this will go.

“But-“

“Get up, take off your shirt, drop your pants, and bend over that desk Mr. Winchester. Now,” Castiel orders, tone harsh. He sees surprise and confusion flicker across Dean’s face. “You want to play this game, we will play this game. You don’t get off the hook so easily, Mr. Winchester. Now drop your pants and bend over,” he repeats, opening a draw in the teacher’s desk and pulling out a wooden ruler.

Dean swallows when he sees the ruler, his eyes wide. It was clearly not what he was expecting, but the haze of lust is still strumming along under the sudden hesitation and Castiel knows he will obey.

“Yes sir,” he says with a deep, worn voice as he stands up and reaches for his shirt. “You gonna spank me, Mr. Novak?”

“It’s what you deserve. Now, I wouldn’t dare speak again Mr. Winchester, unless you are asked to. That mouth of yours keeps getting you in trouble.”

Dean nods as he reaches for his belt and slides off his boxers and jeans without a second though. He’d forgotten, as he watches the small bottle of lube slide out when his pants hit the floor, that he had slid that in the pocket earlier, incase his plan had led to a need for it. He looks up to see if it was noticed, and indeed, Castiel’s tracked the movement of the bottle, his face sharp and fierce and Dean can’t quite read him.

“I uh-“ Dean begins weakly.

“I told you to be quiet, Mr. Winchester,” Castiel cuts him off impatiently, bending down to pick up the bottle and push Dean’s pants out of the way. “I also told you to bend over the desk. I don’t like repeating myself.”

The authority in his voice is mixed with a warning and Dean gulps as he complies, placing his hands flat on the desk and bending over. He knows he makes a pretty picture, but he’s distracted from showing off when Castiel silently places the bottle of lube on the desk next to his right hand. He’s not sure what that means, but the lack of any comment on the lube is worrying.

He hears Castiel shift into position behind him, and the ruler slides across the flesh of his ass. His heart is pounding, waiting for the hit, but Castiel drags out the tension.

“How many, do you think?” Castiel finally says.

Dean does not respond. It’s not so much that he’s finally remembered the order to keep his mouth shut as he didn’t think he was actually being asked. He was wrong.

The ruler lands suddenly, hard, causing him to jump.

“I asked you a question, Dean. Respond.”

“Um… 10?”

“Is that all,” Castiel says flatly, and this time Dean is pretty sure it’s not a question. The ruler lands hard again, but he saves himself from jumping this time. “I was thinking more.” Another hit. “Perhaps we shouldn’t set a number. It will take as long as it needs to.” Another hit. Dean bites his lip.

“How many is that, Dean?”

He’s thrown by the question. Was he supposed to be counting? “Uh….” He’s hit again before he answers, this time a little harder and he cringes. “That makes… five?” He braces for another hit, but instead a soft hand caresses the left cheek, the one that is stinging the most, and he hisses in surprise.

“Very good Dean,” he murmurs softly, suddenly close and Dean thinks maybe he’ll be let off with five. Then Castiel whispers in his ear, “Keep counting.”

A ruler is not exactly the best implement for a spanking. Dean logically knows this. They are too thin and feeble, and most lack any holes to decrease the drag on the swing, as so the effect is less. Dean knows this, but it’s hard to convince his ass of that as Castiel reigns smack after smack down, constantly changing the angle, and randomizing which cheek he hits. Sometimes he’ll get five in a row on one cheek, other times he’ll alternate quickly back and forth.

Every now and then Castiel asks how many, and Dean croaks out a number and hopes it’s right. If Castiel has to correct him, he’ll get several harsh ones in a row as further punishment.

Then Castiel starts smacking the back of his thighs and Dean jumps in surprise. Now he really has no idea what to expect. The sting and burn, the cooling air, the occasional caress, it winds him up so tight he can’t decide if he’s feeling more pain or arousal. The inside of his lips are starting to bleed, he’s been biting them so hard to keep from crying out. He discovered pretty quickly that he will get punished for being too loud. He’s not sure if Castiel doesn’t want to attract attention to the classroom, or if it’s part of the power play going on. Probably both.

Eventually Castiel asks how many, and Dean manages to pant out the correct number of 42. He knows it’s correct because he doesn’t get spanked again immediately. Instead, he feels the ruler turn on its side and slide slowly between his butt cheeks, pressing a cool line into intimate skin, forcing Dean to suck in a quick breath.

“Very good Dean,” Castiel whispers near his ear. “I think you’ve had enough of the ruler,” Castiel continues, sliding the edge of the ruler back and forth over his asshole. “Hold out your right hand, Dean.”

Confused, Dean obeys, shifting his weight to his left hand and holding his right one up. When Castiel presses the bottle of lube into his palm, he thinks he’s got an idea of what’s going on.

“Prep yourself for me, Dean.”

Suddenly the ruler, the heat at Dean’s back, it’s all gone. Castiel has stepped back and crossed him arms, waiting for Dean to comply.

Seeing no reason to argue, Dean unscrews the lid and coats his right fingers before planting his left hand on the desk again. He reaches behind himself, hissing as he skims over the irritated, pink flesh of his ass, and slides a finger inside. He bites his tender lip again as he puts on a display, working his finger in and out.

He glances back at Professor Novak to see how he is enjoy the show, since he’s being unsettlingly quiet, but Castiel is still standing with his arms crossed, still fully clothed, and still watching him intently. A quick glance down reveals an erection obviously tenting the black slacks, and that at least spurs Dean on to add another finger and present himself as well as he can while avoiding his sensitive butt cheeks.

“That’s good enough, Dean,” Castiel says after a relatively short amount of time. In fact, Dean had been so focused on putting on a show he’d only gotten to two fingers, and he’s not quite as stretched as he’d like to be. He wonders if Castiel stopped him early on purpose.

Castiel steps behind him and Dean hears a zipper being pulled down.

“Hold yourself open for me, Dean,” Castiel commands.

A bolt of pleasure rushes through Dean at that. Castiel is far too good at playing the dom. Maybe it’s a professor thing. He reaches behind to spread his cheeks apart, hissing as he grips and pulls at the raw skin. With the lack of anything to support himself on, he ends up face down on the desk, cool wood against his cheek.

He feels Castiel press against his hole, rubbing the head of his cock up and down the puckered flesh. He thinks he hears Castiel mumble, “so beautiful,” but he’s breached a second later, so he can’t be sure.

He was right, he didn’t get as stretched as he normally likes, but the burn-stretch of Castiel pushing into him has a thrill all of its own. It’s not painful enough to be worrisome, but enough to remind him this is supposed to be a punishment. (Though he’s not sure either of them really believes that at his point.)

Castiel fucks him mercilessly, hard and fast and rough, and Dean knows his ass is going to thoroughly tender and sore for days, both inside and out. Fortunately, Castiel’s pants must be around his knees or on the ground, because Dean feels skin instead of the sharp sting of a zipper, but his sore ass is still being hit repeatedly by Castiel’s thrusts.

Still riding the edge of pain and pleasure, he grits his teeth and wishes more than anything that he could touch his cock. That  _someone_  would touch his cock. But when he begins to remove his hand from holding himself open, Castiel growls and he stops immediately. That ruler is still nearby somewhere.

Castiel pulls out suddenly and it shocks Dean. He knows Castiel hasn’t come yet, though he had to be quite close if the increased pace and breathing rate were anything to go by.

“You wanted to be on your knees, Dean. Do it. Now,” he commands.

Dean turns around quickly and sinks down, and moves to take Castiel in his mouth, not caring where his dick had just been, but Castiel jerks back, pumping himself slowly. “Open your mouth, tilt your head back,” Castiel commands in the roughest voice he’s ever heard, and yeah, he’s about to come. He fists himself a few more times before groaning hard, and strings of come spill across Dean’s face, marking him, owning him.

Dean swallows what falls in his mouth and sits stunned, waiting, as Castiel pants, head flung back and eyes closed. They finally flutter open, and he looks down at Dean with a satisfied, relaxed look at his face.

“Stand up, Dean,” he orders, but it’s much less fierce than before. Dean stands and gasps as Castiel wraps a hand around his cock. “I don’t think you deserve to come,” he says as he begins to stroke, contradicting his words. “But I will let you nonetheless.” He pumps a few more times, and Dean has to rest his hands back on the desk to keep from collapsing. He’s already on the edge when Castiel adds, “Come for me, Dean.”

So he does. He comes so hard his knees shake and he almost ends up on the floor anyway. Come spills across Castiel’s fist, as Castiel pumps him through it.

When he’s done, Castiel bridges the gap between them, carefully avoiding getting any come on the nice clothes he still has on, and kisses Dean tenderly. When he breaks the kiss, he laughs and shakes his head.

“I haven’t been your professor for 8 years Dean, when are you going to get over this kink of yours?”

“I don’t know Cas,” Dean replies with a lazy grin. “It’s a pretty damn good kink. I’m thinking never.”

Castiel laughs and shakes his head. “We could still get in trouble you know.”

“Yeah, well, that’s kind of the point,” Dean says with a wink.

And yeah, well, it kind of is.


End file.
